


Sketches and (Lacrosse) Sticks

by fanCAT_not_fanGIRL



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Castiel likes drawing Dean, M/M, Not Beta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanCAT_not_fanGIRL/pseuds/fanCAT_not_fanGIRL
Summary: Castiel is head over heels in love with the star of the lacrosse team, Dean Winchester. He's sketched so many copies of Dean's face that he can now do so blind, deaf, and with his hands tied behind his back. Except Dean doesn't know that. In fact, Castiel is fairly certain that Dean doesn't know he exists.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 153





	Sketches and (Lacrosse) Sticks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Why_do_you_want_to_know](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Why_do_you_want_to_know/gifts), [Theworstpersoneverthankyouverymuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theworstpersoneverthankyouverymuch/gifts).



> This is a gift for @coolsoilikegayshityesyes and @Why_do_you_want_to_know, because you two literally make my day with your comments and I literally cannot express how happy I get when one of them. I legitimately cANNOt stop smiling for the rest of the day and I had this fanfic in mind for a while but I finally sat down and wrote it today and decided hey, why not, let me make it for my TWO FAVORITEST PEOPLE EVER!!!!  
> Thank you so so much for your wonderful comments and encouragements.  
> You're the frickin best. Period.

Castiel Novak stared at the clock.

Ten. 

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

_ Ring. _

Before the bell was done he had grabbed his bags and was out the door. 

Weaving through the throng of people pushing and shoving each other in the halls, Castiel fiddled with the sleeve of his sweater in excitement. Or was it dread? Maybe both.

It was definitely both.

Castiel pushed his way out of the front doors and made a beeline for the lacrosse field. People were already crowding the bleachers but he was sure that his usual spot was free. It always was. People at his high school knew him well enough to know that every day right after school, no matter the weather, be it rain or snow or glaring hot sun, Castiel could be found sitting in the same exact spot, watching the lacrosse games. Knew that he was always there with his sketchbook. Knew that Castiel was fascinated with the sport, and from starting time to ending time of the games, he’d be there, furiously scribbling away in his little book.

But they were wrong.

About the last part, that is.

Because Castiel couldn’t care less about lacrosse. About the maneuvers and body movements and strategies and sticks. No, he really couldn’t care less about the damned sport.

What he did care about though -  _ who _ he cared about - was the star of his high school’s lacrosse team. Dean Winchester.

The tall, well built, honey-haired, green eyed Dean Winchester. The one who attracted hoards of fangirls, ones who were now clogging up the bleachers and giving Castiel a hell of a time as he tried to squeeze his way through them and to his seat.

This seat, Castiel had learned from weeks of sitting in it, gave him the perfect view. He was close enough to the field where he could see the details of the players (specifically Dean Winchester), but also far enough that Dean wouldn’t get suspicious. But if he was being honest, Castiel didn’t need the closeness by now anyway; he could draw the sculptured face of Dean Winchester with his hands tied behind his back and a blindfold on his face.

Dean didn’t know that, though.

And today, Castiel’s heart sank, today was the last day of the lacrosse season. Which meant no more practices. No more rushing out of class before the bell finished ringing. No more pushing his way through squealing girls on the bleachers. No more admiring and sketching and memorizing those sharp, handsome features of Dean’s face.

Castiel was going to miss it.

He barely saw Dean Winchester during school. They weren’t in the same classes and passed each other so rarely in the hallways. But even then, Castiel had been in love with the boy the first time he laid eyes on him those months back at the volunteer job his school had set up at their town Animal Shelter. He had taken one look at the graceful and confident way Dean Winchester held himself, even while cleaning dog poop, and had instantly fallen head over heels for him.

Except Dean didn’t know that either.

In fact, Castiel thought to himself, the famous Dean Winchester probably didn’t even know he existed.

Which wasn’t a problem with Cas. Because then he’d have to find a way to explain the hundreds and hundreds of sketches of Dean’s face in his sketchbook. And if it came down to it, Castiel would rather die than do that.

Castiel was snapped out of his thoughts when he finally reached his destination but beheld what was already there. Or  _ who _ was already there.

Lisa Braeden.

One of Dean’s biggest fans. Perhaps even the biggest. Her locker was decorated with dozens of pictures of the lacrosse player’s face on it, and she made her crush on him widely known, but Castiel had never seen the two interact. In fact, he didn’t think Dean knew she existed.  _ Join the club _ , he managed to think wryly.

Except that didn’t help him in this situation.

She was still sitting in his spot, already drooling over the warm ups being done by the lacrosse team.

“Excuse me,” Castielquietly said as he sidled up to her. 

She didn’t seem to hear him, so he cleared his throat and tried again.

“Excuse me.” Lisa’s head swerved his way. Castiel tried to fight back a blush. He had never been good at this. At talking to strangers. “Sorry to bother you, but that’s my usual seat.”

Lisa seemed to strain to hear the quiet words, but then straightened up. “There aren’t assigned seats on bleachers. Plus, finders keepers.” Her gaze was slowly sliding back towards the field but Castiel tried again.

“I know that, but it’s just that I usually sit here and since it’s the last game, I hoped-”

“Finders keepers,” Lisa repeated.

Castiel debated on whether or not he should keep arguing, but decided against it. He’d best go get another spot. 

He was turning back around, eyes already scanning the rapidly filling bleachers, when a voice cut through the air.

“Where are you going?”

And Cas’s heart almost stopped in his chest when he turned around and saw the one and only green-eyed freckle-faced honey-haired Dean Winchester standing mere feet away from him. Up close, those eyes were so much brighter than from afar. And the hair. Castiel would sell his soul to get to sketch Dean Winchester’s face at such a short distance. 

At that moment, Cas’s brain spontaneously decided to shut down, and he was left staring at the lacrosse player, who seemed to be waiting for an answer from him.

“It’s nothing,” he managed to say, even though his tongue seemed to have stopped cooperating. “I’ll just go find another spot.”

Heart beating faster than he thought was possible, Castiel started inching backwards into the crowd. But suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder that belonged to Dean and at that point Castiel’s heart just gave out because how he would love to draw those hands.

“Hey, Lisa,” Dean kept the hand on Castiel’s shoulder and flashed a smile at Lisa, who looked as if she was surprised he knew her name. Castiel certainly was. “Can you go find another seat? I promised Castiel here that he could get the best spot in the house, and I wouldn’t want to let him down on our last practice.” He flashed her another grin that had both Lisa and Castiel swooning. Except Castiel had a hand on his shoulder to keep him upright.

But it seemed to do the trick, and in seconds the no doubt lovestruck Lisa Braeden had disappeared into the crowd, leaving Castiel and Dean standing alone by his now empty seat.

There was a moment of silence where Castiel could have sworn the world stopped around them, but then coaches were calling and teammates were waving and Dean gave Castiel a final smile and strode off, jumping down and onto the field.

And only when the practice began did Castiel realize that Dean knew his name. 

Dean Winchester, lacrosse player extraordinaire, knew his name.

And after that, the game passed by in a flash. Castiel barely had time to finish one sketch when he’d look up and see the light hit Dean in a different way, and he’d have to flip the page and draw Dean again from the split second image in his brain.

It seemed as if Dean had been holding back these past weeks, and had decided to unleash his beauty all at once now. Or maybe that was because Castiel had now seen his eyes, his lips, his hair up close. He now knew their shapes, their lines, their curves. Knew how to make Dean come alive on the pages of his sketchbook.

But then it was over. Too quickly, it was over and the crowd cheered and the team embraced and the crowds started dispersing. And Castiel Novak was still sitting, sketchbook in his lap, finishing his last drawing. This last one he was most proud of. He had caught Dean in a moment of pure joy as he had wrapped his arms around one of his team members. And now Castiel’s pencil was flying across the page, trying to capture it all before the image left his mind.

“Castiel!” Castiel’s head snapped up in time to see Dean break away from his team and start up the bleachers. It had been Dean who had called his name. And Castiel couldn’t deny the thrill it sent down his spine.

But that didn’t stop the fact that Dean freaking Winchester was now ascending the bleachers and heading straight towards Castiel.

Castiel, who panicked and jumped up, sketchbook sliding off his lap, between the beams of the flooring and under the bleachers. Castiel, whose face then burned red in embarrassment as he shouldered his backpack and bolted, ducking under arms and weaving through the remains of the crowd. Away from the field. Away from Dean.

And as he lay in bed that night, Castiel realized that he had completely forgotten his sketchbook under the bleachers.

<><><>

Castiel dreaded going to school the next day. Dreaded it with a burning passion. He almost didn’t get out of bed.

But ripping the bandaid off is the best way to go, so he heaved himself off his bed and threw on his favorite sweater, because if he was to be humiliated today, then he would do so in style.

Except the minute he walked into his first period class to see his sketchbook on his desk, Castiel regretted ever considering waking up in the morning. He regretted ever liking Dean Winchester, regretted going to his games, regretted the hundreds of sketches he had in his book. He regretted everything.

But he sat down anyway. He sat down and the class started and Castiel couldn’t move because he was afraid to open the book. He was afraid to see what Dean might have done. 

The lesson on Shakespeare went on and on and Castiel took a deep breath. Now or never.

He slowly opened the front cover. 

Nothing.

Nothing but his very first sketch of Dean Winchester.

He flipped the page.

And there was his second one.

Nobody had crossed them out. Nobody had drawn over them. There weren’t any notes or threats or anything.

Maybe it hadn't been Dean that picked up the book. Maybe Castiel got lucky.

But then there it was. After the very last sketch of Dean Winchester, there was writing. 

Castiel’s heart stopped for the second time in mere hours and it really should stop doing that because one of these days he’d not going to get it to start back up again.

_ Hi Castiel, _

_ This is amazing! You make me look so much better than I actually do.  _

_ But that’s not the point.  _

_ The point is that I think you’re really cute and your hair is very fluffy and your eyes are so blue and I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me. _

_ (Please say yes) _

_ -Dean Winchester _

Writing that had Castiel fighting for breath because this was impossible. It was a joke. That was what Castiel decided. A prank. Because it certainly couldn’t be real.

But one week later when Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester walked into the school hand in hand, Castiel realized that he should maybe rethink his previous decision.

Because it certainly was real.

As were the dozens of new close-up sketches of Dean’s face he now had in his sketchbook.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you both so super much and I hope you like this because I certainly like you <3


End file.
